


Aria Mágica

by Vera_dAuriac



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Magical Realism, Socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_dAuriac/pseuds/Vera_dAuriac
Summary: César is in need of some joy, and Eduardo knows a special way to get it for him.
Relationships: César Gaviria/Eduardo Sandoval
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	Aria Mágica

**Author's Note:**

> When I first watched Narcos a few years ago, I adored César and Eduardo. When I recently rewatched, I discovered I loved them even more. I decided that I had to write fic for them, but I wasn’t entirely sure what. And then, even though I’ve never tried writing it before, I decided it had to be magical realism, or at least my half-assed version of it. This was written in the midst of NaNoWriMo writer brain overload, and I’m not even sure if it’s any good, but it’s what I have.
> 
> If you want to experience what I experienced while writing, I suggest having this playing in the background. (Yes, I know the song is Brazilian, not Colombian or even Spanish language, but it works mood-wise.)  
> https://youtu.be/bLZD0XplYrI

**By Vera d'Auriac**

César frowned at the rain. He had wanted to stroll in the park and smile at children licking lollipops, but jumping in mudpuddles wasn’t considers presidential. Perhaps Colombia would survive the scandal, but his socks would not. He sat at his desk and pulled open the bottom drawer. A pile of socks—black, navy, and charcoal—were folded neatly, packed all the way up to the edge. Eduardo had insisted on the office sock drawer. The budget files had been moved to another room.

Before César could decide whether or not he would risk losing votes by frolicking in the rain, ala Gene Kelly, since he could, indeed, be assured of dry socks, Eduardo entered. While the strain of government conspired with the clouds to dampen César’s mood, Eduardo clearly remembered joy, possibly even the specific joy of kicking through puddles, his smile cheerful and step light. César sighed, wishing he might put the strain of leadership aside if just for a little while. Preferably with Eduardo. Perhaps even with his fingers in Eduardo’s curls that were tighter than usual thanks to the damp air.

“Would the Vice Minister of Justice like to go out and play in the rain?” he asked, chuckling sadly, knowing they could never do so.

Eduardo frowned, dropping the pile of folders in his arms on the corner of César’s desk. “Mr. President, why does the thought of laughing in the face of the pouring heavens make you sad? You should be joyful.”

“That would be lovely, but how can I be joyful in the face of all our woes?”

Eduardo moved behind César’s desk. At first he sat on the edge, just looking down at César with a very insistent stare. Then without warning, he grabbed the arm of César’s chair, and pushed it back far enough from the desk that he could slip between chair and desk and drop to his knees. César could not fathom what Eduardo intended until his fingers found their way to the zipper of César’s pants.

“Eduardo, what are you doing?”

“Showing you joy in the midst of woe.” He pulled the zipper down, opened the belt and button. César could not plead disinterest when Eduardo emerged with his cock, stiff and dripping in his hand. Well, he could have protested, but what would he have said? There was little point in trying to deny his desire.

Eduardo scooted the chair back toward the desk. With the edge of the chair flush with his chest, Eduardo swallowed César. This caused César to release a melodic moan fit for a poet. For years César had desired Eduardo, but he was a professional—work in one basket, lust in another. But now his two worlds met under his desk. He wished he might slip under there with Eduardo and disappear.

“We can do that,” Eduardo said, his lips brushing the head of César’s cock as he spoke.

“What? We can do what?” César was not aware that he had spoken his wish aloud, but anything was possible with Eduardo’s lanky frame tucked so perfectly between his knees.

“We can slip under this desk one night only. Can you stay up all night?”

Someone knocked on the office door. César looked up at it, then back down at Eduardo. Could he do this? Could he leave his responsibilities? Eduardo licked the length of his erection.

“Come with me, César.”

Eduardo sank deeper under the desk, his hands rubbing down César’s thighs. Without making a conscious choice to do so, César melted onto the floor, and Eduardo wrapped him tight in his arms, and the space grew infinite, and the light brightened, and he could smell trees and rain and flowers.

***

César could hear his favorite song playing on the radio. Well, it had been his grandfather’s favorite song when César was a boy, so it had become his as well. Still, he could hear his father complaining, “Not that song again.” But it made César happy to hear it. So much better than those people who were always calling into talk radio shows that he thought he needed to listen to now that he was president.

“You are not president here,” Eduardo said, his arms circling his waist from behind and pulling him close.

“Can you hear all my thoughts, whether or not I speak them?”

“I’ve always known what you are thinking. We are attuned. I see your needs and wants without the need for words.”

“Like socks.”

“Like socks.”

“What am I thinking now?”

“That you like the white poodle your neighbor Roberto just took in from his mother who died last week.”

César turned in Eduardo’s arms to face him. They were in the middle of the jungle, a small pavilion beside them with the radio, table with wine atop it, nightstand, and a sprawling four-poster bed, gauzy white drapes hanging around it. No one was around to see them, to see César sag into Eduardo’s arm, face tilted up for a kiss.

And what a kiss! Eduardo, passionate, insistent, kissed liked he argued. César, typically so staid, unflappable, felt gloriously assaulted by this kiss. He had to cling with both hands to Eduardo’s shirt front to stop himself from utter collapse.

“Make love to me, César,” Eduardo whispered against his lips. “Make love to me as long as this song plays.”

César listened. It was his favorite song still, the one his grandfather had first played for him on an old record player. But it was earlier in the song than when they had first arrived. He smiled. “Is this song always playing on the radio?”

“Yes, César. It is the only song on the radio here.”

César reached up on his tiptoes, bowed Eduardo’s head, met his lips once more, but this time it was his kiss—soft and full of promise. He would make love to Eduardo all night. There was no hurry.

Hand in hand, they walked to the bed, small, giddy smiles on their lips that were hard to contain. Eduardo made it appear attractive on his boyish face. César, old, grave, and starting to wrinkle, probably looked absurd.

“No, you don’t,” Eduardo bent down and whispered in his ear. “You are the most handsome man in Colombia. Probably in the world. Perhaps even in all the history of Colombia.”

“You’re ridiculous,” César said before dotted Eduardo’s neck with kisses. “I’m old and tired.”

“You’re glorious.”

Eduardo pushed the suit jacket off César’s shoulders and onto the end of the bed. César thought about hanging it or folding it neatly and placing it safely out of the way, but Eduardo chuckled and took César’s face firmly between his hands and kissed him. And with this kiss, Eduardo’s strong tongue allowed for no argument or dissent. César kissed him back, eager now for Eduardo to remove more of his clothes. César even found himself holding his breath, waiting for Eduardo to start tearing at his buttons.

Eduardo pushed him gently down on the edge of the bed. César thought for certain this would be the moment Eduardo would push him over and ravage him, or at least take back up what had been started under his desk. But, no. Eduardo gently removed first one shoe and then the other. Then, reverently, he carefully rolled off the left sock and tucked it into its corresponding shoe before doing the same with the right. César shuddered under these tender attentions, wanting Eduardo more now than ever.

“Lie back,” Eduardo whisper, once shoes and socks were tucked safely under the bed. César did so, turning to stretch out properly on the bed. He felt off, still in his pants (opened) and his tie, vest, and shirt. Yet, Eduardo gazed down in rapture. César blushed.

“This is your best look,” Eduardo said. “Still formal, but just starting to come undone. Wait!” He sprang forward and took César’s right wrist in his hand. He plucked out the cufflink and rolled the sleeve up to the middle of his forearm. He repeated the process with the left, dropped the left hand on the bed, and stepped back, his breath coming in awkward gasps. “No, this. _This_ is my favorite look. I…I cannot.”

Unable to articulate more, Eduardo covered César’s body with his own, lining them up as well as their height difference would allow. César felt their erections rub together, and he wanted to scream at Eduardo to get them naked. This felt beautiful, but he wanted skin and sweat, not cotton and silk touching.

“In a moment, César. I promise, in a moment. Let me catch my breath.”

But César could not merely stay still with Eduardo atop him. He ran his hands down the back above him. He kissed the throat at his lips. He shifted a leg so that he might thrust his hips up to meet Eduardo’s.

“You are the stars in my sky, the sun on my skin. I want you now, Eduardo. I want you as long as I can hold you.”

Eduardo adjusted himself and enveloped César’s mouth with his own. Every time they kissed, it was like being devoured and nourish simultaneously. If this was what kissing Eduardo felt like, what would it be like when he found himself inside him? César started pulling at Eduardo’s tie, his need the only thing in the world he understood for certain.

At last, Eduardo started to mirror his gestures, loosened the tie at his throat. Ties gone, their hands tangled as the assault on shirt and vest buttons commenced. Eduardo lifted César up so they both might shed these clothes, leaving their torsos exposed to the fingers and lips of the other. The smell of Eduardo, the slick sweat on his shoulders, made César wonder if this would be dream come true enough. He might only need to press their chest’s together like this for eternity to find absolute contentment.

“More, César, I need more. You do, too. We need everything from each other, because we mean everything to each other.”

He said no more, pushed César flat on his back, and lifted his hips so he might remove pants and underwear. César’s body felt chilled even in the warm jungle air at this sudden and complete exposure. But Eduardo’s gaze was so worshipful, he could but sink into the soft bed awaiting more.

Eduardo opened his own pants, flopped beside César on the bed to kick off his shoes and yank off the remainder of his clothes. César, who had been paralyzed by the excess of emotions, finally rolled on his side so that he might properly admire Eduardo. He was more muscled that César had expected given the baggy suits. He must take Eduardo to his tailor.

Or better yet, he would never permit Eduardo to wear clothes again. He would insist Eduardo discuss budgets and crime and the next election as naked as he was now. Such a beautiful body should not be hidden beneath cheap suits. The elegant definition of Eduardo’s stomach and hips should be appreciated daily. At least by César. Eduardo would be given a dispensation to dress, perhaps in a bathrobe, when he met with other people. But then he would be with other people. And César did not care for that idea. He wished to keep Eduardo all to himself.

César rolled close enough to kiss Eduardo. “You will be mine, even when this night ends?”

“I will always be and have always been yours.”

Their bodies sought each other like magnet to metal. Their hands explored like eager sculptors with new clay. Their souls connecting as though destiny had at last been achieved.

Eduardo rolled atop César once more, and the sensation thrilled César, Eduardo’s weight and skin entirely his. Then Eduardo reached over to the nightstand and returned with a jar of sweet-smelling oil that reminded César of summer days at the ocean. “You promised to make love to me,” Eduardo whispered.

César took the jar and slid from beneath Eduardo, who then lay stretched out on his stomach. The smooth expanse of his back, the way it curved into his ass, the strong legs extending down to shapely feet—all was perfection and it was César’s. All his.

Dipping two fingers into the jar, César prepared himself to prepare Eduardo. But first a kiss on the neck, just below those curls. A quick lick to trace the right shoulder blade.

Eduardo repeated César’s name like a chant. The rhythm of his voice matched the song on the radio, synced with César’s moments. And soon their bodies were aching and ready for more. César lay atop Eduardo, pushed his body between Eduardo’s legs, wrapped their bodies together, and slowly pushed inside.

Their bodies sang as exquisitely as the soprano, this joining a culmination of years of protecting, supporting, loving each other. César’s chest stuck to Eduardo’s back as they thrust together, his mouth nourished by the salt of Eduardo’s skin. He wanted to say how much he loved Eduardo, but his voice had flown away like a bird uncaged to live its most perfect life. He was beyond words. He could only speak with his body.

He pulled Eduardo up by the chest, so that they were kneeling, but still utterly connected. Tears leaked from César’s eyes onto Eduardo’s neck. Eduardo’s hand snaked around to César’s hip and pushed them tighter together. They could not be parted, not now. Not while the song still played.

César felt glorious. When he reached down to Eduardo’s stiff cock, he felt it dripping. Yet, somehow, he knew that neither of them was ready for climax, even though he tingled as though he were so close he should have already spent by now. But the song began again, and the sun was just starting to set, and he knew that the night was still young. He left Eduardo, who moaned sadly, but only so he might turn Eduardo over, lower him onto his back, and then join their bodies once more. If they had hours yet, César wanted to spend them looking at his beloved.

“Don’t stop again,” Eduardo said. “I won’t be able to take it.”

César pressed his mouth to the notch in Eduardo’s throat, licked, and rolled his hips down and forward in time with the languorous music. He would not stop again. Not for hours until they finally spent and fell asleep wrapped in each other like well-swaddled children.

Yes, at that point, they slept, enveloped by the scent and warmth of each other in the deepest contentment ever known.

***

César woke. He and Eduardo were curled tightly together under his desk, their suits a bit rumpled, but on correctly. He laced his fingers through the curls at the nape of Eduardo’s neck while pressing soft kisses to his temple. Eventually, Eduardo’s light eyes fluttered open only a few inches from his face. César’s lips broke into a smile of their own accord. Eduardo nuzzled his face into César’s neck, and they squeezed each other tighter.

“What would happen if we remained here for the rest of our days?” César whispered into Eduardo’s hair.

“There would probably have to be a new election. And I’m not sure how the next president would feel about the two of us living under his desk.”

“We would eat very little and make almost no noise.”

Eduardo slowly kissed his neck. “No noise? I’m not sure you could promise that.”

“Mmm. That is a good point. Perhaps the next president can find a new office. Leave us here under the desk, where we can go to our bedroom in the jungle every night.”

Eduardo sighed. “We cannot go there every night, César.”

“We can go _some_ nights, can’t we?”

“No, César. That was a one time trip.”

César pulled back so that he might look Eduardo in the eyes. “But we are not once in a lifetime. You have to tell me you and I will be together still.”

Eduardo got a sleepy smile on his face and shook his head, as if he thought César an idiot. “Of course, we will be together here and out there and everywhere we go. Let us get you ready for the day. There is a budget meeting at 10 a.m.”

César gently pressed his lips to Eduardo’s, his own smile matching up well. “I’m fine as I am. We can stay here until 9:58.”

“But you will at least want new socks.”

Eduardo shifted so he might use his long arms to reach around the corner to the bottom sock drawer. He felt for a moment until finally returning with a pair of black and red argyle César especially liked. They were cozy, but not too warm, and the elastic was good so they never fell down. As far as socks went, he really couldn’t ask for anything better. And when he looked at Eduardo, he knew he could not ask for anything better there, either.

Without a word, Eduardo tucked the socks in his own lap and set to removing César’s shoes. Once off, he lined them up carefully under the desk chair. Then he peeled off one sock and then the other, his hands cool and soft on César’s feet. The old socks folded neatly together and place on the floor in front of the drawer, Eduardo unbundled the clean socks. He kissed César, soft and wet with a needy affection César longed to indulge.

But this was not the time. He had a meeting soon, and Eduardo was focused, sliding a sock onto his left foot. He pulled the sock up as far as it would go and after giving his calf a playful pat, Eduardo set to work doing the same with the sock on the right foot. When he finished getting it perfectly in place, he doubled over his lanky body and kissed César’s leg just above where the sock ended.

“Eduardo!” he said, the breath almost all taken from his body in love and desire.

Eduardo answered him with a hard but fleeting kiss on the lips. “Your shoes. We have to get you ready.”

César smiled, resigned, and allowed Eduardo to finish putting his shoes on. When they were tied, they paused and grinned at each other, both happy beyond description to be together under this desk. But then César sighed, knowing that the rest of the world—Escobar, America and extradition, terrorism and cocaine—awaited them.

“So, budget meeting.”

“Yes, Mr. President.” Eduardo climbed out from under the desk. He turned around and offered César a hand, which he happily grasped tightly. “Then a meeting with the army and police, lunch with the Justice Minister, and the opening of a new school.”

César straightened out his suit once he was fully upright and smoothed out his expression at the same time. “But you will be with me?”

“The entire time.”


End file.
